Ah, the painful humor of seeing yourself mirrored in comic splendor. My husband loves the comic strip “Zits.†(As per “Google†–Created by Jerry Scott and Jim Borgman, Zits is about the life of Jeremy Duncan, a 15-year-old aspiring rock musician.) I’m not sure if he loves it because Jeremy’s father is in dentistry, or because he secretly relates to Jeremy’s rather, um, interesting views on life, love, and work.
My husband recently handed me a Zits calendar page and I groaned in recognition. In that day’s comic, Jeremy was attempting to help his tech-challenged father sign up for an online social media site. When he tells his father to enter his birthdate from the drop down menu you (the reader) see this—Scroll, scroll, scroll, scroll, scroll…
I have soooooo been there! And while those scroll down menus are supposed to be a quick and useful tool, they feel more than a little insulting. Like Jeremy’s father, nowadays the scrolling takes forever to reach my birth year. It’s almost to the point that I expect to see cobwebbed Roman Numerals pop up for any date pre-1980. My husband says he’s just grateful they still put his birth year out there, as though anyone that old would surely not have the strength or mental acuity to use a computer. The “old man drool†alone would surely destroy a keyboard.
Technology grumping aside, my husband and I had a good chuckle about this thing called aging, and our solid membership within that scroll, scroll, scroll demographic.
Change is good, but I still feel experience better. Laughing at myself? The best part of my day.
